


Heart of the Black Lion

by amaira



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Shiro (Voltron), Alternate Universe, Everyone agrees that fuzzy blankets are the best blankets, Fluff, Guard Shiro (Voltron), I'm Bad At Tagging, Keith doesn't actually want to be a thief, Lonely Shiro (Voltron), M/M, Mild Angst, Misunderstandings, POV Keith (Voltron), POV Shiro (Voltron), Prophecies and Oracles, Shiro (Voltron) is a Dork, Shiro definitely wants to be a dork, Thief Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 01:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18906319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaira/pseuds/amaira
Summary: All his life, Keith has felt like an outsider in his own home. On the cusp of his coming-of-age, he can finally be recognized as an adult, as an equal member of the Marmora family. But with the arrival of the Oracle, promising the end of the Marmora people, all that's on hold. Now, he has to travel to Altea and retrieve the Heart of the Black Lion, supposedly a powerful gem kept in the temple of Altea's castle, and get it back to the village before the Oracle's warnings come to pass.Shiro, the guard captain, blocks him at every turn. Soon, however, Shiro begins to feel a little like home.After all, home is where the Heart is.





	Heart of the Black Lion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sheith Prompt Bang!

 “It’s just bullshit,” Keith said, lobbing his knife at the straw target across the training yard. Regris whistled in appreciation when it hit dead center. “Kolivan won’t tell me why I have to wait.”

Regris hummed as his tail flicked behind him. “He’s always been weird about you.”

“Yes! Thank you! Krolia acts like I’m crazy when I say that.”

Regris snorted. “She’s been weird about you, too.”

That was true. Keith sighed and stomped over to the target, yanking the knife out with more force than necessary. A few cracked bits of straw floated to the ground.

It wasn’t just Kolivan and Krolia anymore, though. All the adults in the village had been weird about him lately. Only Regris was still normal; probably because Regris was only a few years older. And Keith should have been considered an adult two nights ago, but Kolivan had told him he had to wait for the right moment. As if reaching twenty years of age wasn’t the right moment for him, like it was for everyone else in the village.

“Probably because I’m short.” He twirled the knife back and forth between his hands and stared past the wooden barriers at the sunset over the cliffs. “Or because I’m not full Marmora. I’m so sick of being treated like some frail child, just because I’m smaller than everyone else.”

Regris said nothing, but his presence was a comfort regardless. Keith shuffled back to him, dragging his toes as he walked. Five toes on each foot, rather than two. He had always bundled them to avoid the stares when he was younger, and kept them that way now for comfort.

“They don’t tell me anything about my parents, either. Does Kolivan even want me here? Am I even Marmora at all to him?”

Regris patted him on the head. “You have a lot of existential questions, today.”

Keith lazily jabbed his knife to the left, missing a laughing Regris by a wide margin.

“I’ll question _your_ existence,” he growled, tossing his knife aside and diving at Regris with a grin.

“Keith.”

They both froze.

Kolivan stood at the gate to the training yard, hands behind his waist and shoulders thrown back, looking every bit as imperious as he ever could.

Keith scrambled to his feet. “Leader.”

“Come with me.”

He followed, with only a quick glance back at Regris, who frowned and nodded in support.

Kolivan led him past stone houses carved into the mountainside, through the twists and turns of the village streets, never waiting to see if Keith could keep up; Keith wasn’t sure if he should appreciate that Kolivan wasn’t coddling him, or if he should resent that Kolivan didn’t care that his legs were easily twice as long as Keith’s.

And – oh. They were in front of Kolivan’s house. Krolia and Antok met them just inside the front door. Ulaz’s voice carried from the next room over, accompanied by one Keith had never heard before.

“Apologies for keeping you waiting, Keith. The Oracle was... delayed on his journey here.”

The unknown voice squawked. “I was not delayed! Coming on the day of your birth would have resulted in catastrophe in 92 percent of all realities!”

“What the fuck,” Keith muttered. Then the Oracle slithered into the foyer and he stumbled backwards. “What the fuck!”

The Oracle had at least six stubby arms that Keith could see, and a round, furred body lacking in any definition. Or joints. Or bones? Everything just seemed... fluid. In a creepy way. Like a tongue with hair.

“Keith!” Krolia hissed. “Show some respect!”

“No, no,” the Oracle said, waving two of his creepy hands. He didn’t have a visible mouth, just a beak that vibrated as he talked. “No reality where Keith shows respect is a stable one.”

Antok stifled a laugh. Krolia frowned.

Kolivan sighed and shook his head. “Keith, I know the Oracle can seem a little... strange. But he has yet to be wrong.”

“Statistically speaking,” the Oracle chirped. “That is to say, I work in probabilities, not certainties. And you... well. The probabilities have always been very high that you would be significant to the future of the Marmora.”

“Wait, what? Me?” Keith glanced around at the rest of the room, finding only somber faces. So this was serious.

The Oracle darted towards him and stood tall on his tail, beak just inches from Keith’s nose. “Yes. It is vital that you win the heart of the _Black Lion of Altea!_ Without it, all probabilities lead to the decline of the Marmora people.”

Keith’s own heart thudded in his chest as the Oracle leaned a little closer and stared at him with his giant round eyes. Then, after a moment too long, the Oracle backed down, crossing all but two pairs of his arms and resting his free hands – paws? – on the side of his body.

“Do not disappoint. Reality depends on you.”

Then he started muttering and fussing at Kolivan in a way that absolutely no one else could get away with, at one point scrambling up to his shoulders and curling around his neck like a scarf. And Kolivan – Kolivan was _placating_ him, stumbling over his words like a flustered child and letting out more than his usual number of long-suffering sighs. Antok, ever the faithful partner, stood at his side and did his best to distract the Oracle.

Keith couldn’t help but stare.

Krolia came up beside Keith and patted his shoulder, and he twitched away.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. She always looked so hurt when he did that, but it was just a reflex, and it wasn’t like she cared about him beyond being fellow Marmora anyway.

None of the other Marmora flinched away from each other, though.

None of the other Marmora looked like strangers in their own home.

She patted his shoulder again, and this time he held steady. “Let’s take this somewhere more private. Kolivan will still be some time with the Oracle.”

He followed silently, like he always did when it was Krolia asking.

“Ugh, he’s exhausting,” Ulaz muttered. He was stretched out over at least three of the cushions on the floor, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Krolia crossed her arms and nudged his shoulder with her foot. “We need somewhere to sit, Ulaz.”

Ulaz groaned and rolled over, pulling himself up to a crouch. Krolia dropped down next to him and elbowed him.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Ulaz.”

“He’s been here all afternoon. He – I understand that he’s a genius, and I appreciate his insight, but he’s so draining.”

They continued like that a little while longer, as Keith made himself comfortable on the far corner’s cushion. Kolivan always had the softest blankets. When Keith was a child, he had once asked Kolivan where he got them, but one severe look and deflection had killed any further desire to pry.

Instead, he simply enjoyed them on the few occasions he was invited inside.

He and Regris used to make up stories about them as children: stolen from gods and goddesses, made from his own shedded fur, actually magic.

Later, as they grew older, they wondered how to get their own for the house they would inevitably share as the only two orphans in the town.

Keith stretched and pulled a blanket around his shoulders. Regris would be interested in hearing about the Oracle.

By now, Antok had joined them. “Ulaz is just pouty that Thace isn’t here to save him from the Oracle tonight,” he said with a grin. “Any bets on how quickly he bails to go back home tonight?”

Ulaz frowned. Krolia stretched her arms. “Three minutes after the meeting is done.”

Antok laughed. “I’ll say... one minute.”

“I’m right here,” Ulaz grumbled, even as he fought a smile.

Keith gripped his elbows and curled up tighter under Kolivan’s blanket. Why did they never joke like that with him?

All chatter stopped as Kolivan entered the room.

“Keith,” he said, voice as snappish as a whip, “you must prepare. You have an important journey ahead of you, and time is of the essence. Ulaz?”

Ulaz stretched and stood, armed with a stack of sketches.

The first was a map of a city. “This is the general layout of Altea, from what we can gather. We believe the ‘Heart of the Black Lion of Altea’ to be the gem in the chest of the lion sculpture in their main temple,” Ulaz explained, pointing at the temple on the map as well as a diagram of the lion. “Rumor has it that the particular type of crystal has magical qualities that Alteans have been able to harness in the past. Do whatever you must to acquire it.”

Their eyes met, and Keith’s stomach sank at the hard look Ulaz gave him. Steal it. They wanted him to steal it.

Why couldn’t his coming of age have been celebrated with a party like everyone else’s?

Ulaz rolled out a larger map of the entire region in the middle of the floor. “Altea is past these mountains here.” He pointed at a squiggle on the paper, then dragged his finger to a large dot. “We’re right here. The journey should take no more than three days by foot.”

Three days? It was that close? How did he just not know that?

Krolia frowned. “The weather is getting colder every day. We shouldn’t wait longer than absolutely necessary.”

With their heads bowed over a map, they looked like generals at war, planning their next battle. They only frowned, if they made any expression at all. Krolia traced a finger along a line on the map. Antok pursed his lips and pointed at something else. They spoke in such low tones that Keith couldn’t pick up a single word.

Which was kind of bullshit.

“Uh, Kolivan?” he croaked. Everyone turned to him in unison. “Not that I don’t appreciate you all planning my future for me, but can you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“Language,” Krolia muttered.

Keith scowled.

Kolivan shook his head and sighed. “There’s not much to tell you. Get this done as quickly and safely as you can. Don’t interact with anyone, and... don’t let your emotions control your actions.”

“...What?”

Kolivan stepped forward and squeezed Keith’s shoulders. “The mission above all else. We need to know what this gem does. Knowledge or death.”

“Knowledge or death,” Keith repeated.

******

Shiro stirred awake to the warmth of the sun on his face. His quarters were on the east end of the palace, perfectly positioned to catch the dawn every morning.

He stretched, kicking his blankets off his legs and sliding the window open. There was a slight breeze today, and he folded his arms on the window sill, letting it ruffle his hair. He gazed at the play of light over his metal arm as he fidgeted with a worn coin he’d found in the hall. His arm had been built to terrify in the arena, then later softened by Allura to blend in among civilians.

Life in Altea was quiet and peaceful, a welcome respite after the chaos of the war, even if nearly two decades hadn’t taken the edge off completely. The dull chatter of the plaza marketplace replaced the sharp cries and shouts of battle, but despite the difference, it still set him ill at ease. Individual rooms replaced the communal tents of the war camps, but he still felt the pressure of a shared living space.

Here there were families and children, laughter and joy. Here, he would never have to take another life. Here, no one saw the cold-blooded soldier, only the polite, distant captain of the guard. No one saw Shiro for who or what he was, just the image he projected.

Exactly how he liked it.

A rooster crowed in the market. Shiro clenched his fist just to hear the plates of his palm shift. His skin itched where he would have had his Altean marks, if his father hadn’t been Human.

He dragged his palm over his cheeks, then flicked the coin off his window sill and into the street. Time to start the day.

After so many years, he still washed himself with military efficiency, refusing to relax into the warm water or to let the soft splashing sounds echo in his ears. He couldn’t delay, not that he ever did. But Allura had called a meeting this morning, so Shiro dressed in his usual guard captain armor and combed his fingers through his hair.

The route to what Allura had jokingly named her command room – simply a large sitting room with a wood table and a cluster of armchairs – was clean, quiet, and direct. He passed a few other castle residents on his way, smiling and bowing his head at them as he walked. Lance, once again eagerly taking any post that had him near Allura, swung the command room door open for Shiro with a flourish.

Allura herself half-sat, half-stood, perched at the edge of the table, rather than taking any of the chairs.

“Ah, Shiro, early as always,” she said, slightly muffled by the coffee mug she held to her lips. “You must be especially excited for the Peace Festival.”

He cleared his throat and smiled, unwilling to admit that he had forgotten about the Peace Festival until a few seconds ago. “Of course.”

“Romelle and Coran will be here soon, I’m sure. I wanted everyone’s opinions on this year’s celebration.”

“Not the same as they were last year?” Shiro asked. The Peace Festival had changed little over the past decade, a cheery evening market ringing a plaza filled with food and dancing and fires.

Allura sighed and set her mug on the table. “Yes, but I want to do more, this year. Multiple days, perhaps. Performances, shows, I don’t know. Do you think your castle guards would be willing to do some kind of demonstration?”

Lance would jump at the chance to show off for Allura. Hunk would balk at even the idea of getting on a stage. James and Ina would do anything out of a sense of duty, but they definitely wouldn’t enjoy it. Ryan... maybe. Nadia could ham it up with the best of them, but she wasn’t much for performance.

“I wouldn’t want them to feel like they had to be performers, instead of enjoying the Festival as attendees.” Shiro shrugged. “And having the closest thing you have to a military doing a demonstration may take away from the ‘peace’ part of the Peace Festival.”

“It’s hard for me to think of it like that sometimes,” Allura murmured. She tilted her head at him and grinned. “Of course, you could just be objecting so you don’t have to alter your daily routines.”

Any response he could have formed to her barb died in his throat as Coran made his usual noisy entrance, followed by Romelle, who was already rolling her eyes.

Shiro claimed a chair and accepted a mug of coffee from Coran. He waited for everyone else to settle in, before his lips curled up into a grin and he locked eyes with Allura. “Maybe we should have Coran plan the Peace Festival this year.”

Allura’s face was one of frozen horror as Coran leapt to his feet and crowed with delight. His mug went flying across the room, bouncing twice on the floor and rolling into a corner. Coffee splatters dotted everyone in its path.

“Oh! What an honor it would be, to plan the Peace Festival! Why, Allura, you must consider it! You know, when I was a young man, I was known throughout all Altea for my parties and celebrations.” He struck such a dramatic pose that Shiro had to wonder if he had also been a stage actor in his youth.

It took almost ten minutes for Allura to calm Coran and insist on the planning being a cooperative venture, and not something he could take over in its entirety.

Shiro leaned back in his chair with a sigh. His coffee had cooled enough to taste off, bitter and slimy, sticking to his teeth in the worst way. But it was amusing, at least, to listen to everyone else get so into the Festival plans.

Once Coran had been... managed... it took no time at all for Allura to secure everyone else’s cooperation in her new ideas for the Festival. Ideas that Shiro had paid no attention to, too busy scrubbing his teeth with his tongue, trying to get rid of the stale coffee taste.

But Romelle was excited, and Coran was pleased, and Allura’s grin looked downright triumphant.

“Shiro? What do you think?” Allura asked.

He twitched. “Uh, sounds great, Allura.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m only concerned with the guard roster for it, which will be easier to manage once the day gets closer,” he elaborated, and by _elaborated_ he really meant _pulled out of his ass._

Allura rolled her eyes. “You work too hard, Shiro.”

He shrugged and hid his mouth behind his mug, pretending to drink from it. “I suppose.”

“Never going to admit it,” she muttered, then perked up. “At least you’re okay with measuring the halls again. Alright, everyone, let’s take a tour and see what we can come up with! Actually, Slav had some suggestions before he left, too.”

Everyone groaned, Shiro loudest of all.

******

After three days, Keith’s journey had taken him through dry ravines dotted with boulders and trees, across wide expanses of grassland, and into a rugged scrubland leading down the mountains.

At the bottom was what looked like a desert. Or at least, it matched all the descriptions of deserts that Keith had heard. The ground was hot and dry and cracked, and so hard that he left no footprints behind. The few bushes that lingered after the scrubland ended were spiny and leafless, twisted into thickets or reaching out to scratch passersby.

Keith found shelter for the night between a rock and the low canopy of a small shrub, and woke with his back aching.

At least he’d only be out here for one more day before he could turn around and head home, back to the small village tucked away in the mountains.

Home. Before now, Keith had never ventured far outside the village boundaries. He would hunt with Thace and Ulaz, sometimes. He would help with gathering berries and nuts from the surrounding hillside every autumn. Once, he had peered over the far mountains at the river below them. He couldn’t wait to get back.

The walls of Altea loomed tall and imposing, stretching into the sky like spires. Everything here was bright and glittering and white, even where age had weathered the corners and worn away the facades, even where old signs of heated battle still lingered. Whatever weapons had scorched the walls of the city, it must have been years ago.

Keith adjusted the scarf around his face and hair, keeping his head down as he approached the city. He had no idea what Alteans looked like or how much he might stick out.

The gates had no guards, no complicated passwords or trials. The actual doors themselves had been propped open for so long that the chains holding them were rusted.

Marmora had never been so accessible. Halfway up a mountain, only reached by jagged trails and a full day of climbing, it was as remote as it could get. It had no open gates, and an armed guard stood at every entrance. Its walls were carved directly into the rock.

Keith crept along the shadows towards the middle of town. Get in, get the gem, get out. The temple wasn’t far, just around this corner and past the open section and –

He almost yelped at the crowd of people. This wasn’t just an open section; it was a huge plaza bustling with stalls and carts and merchants as far as the eye could see, from informal walkways at the very edge to a ring of tents surrounding a giant statue in the center. He waited, frozen in place, for someone to point at him, single him out as a stranger.

But it never came. No one paid him any mind. And everyone _looked like him_.

They had soft-looking, furless skin ranging from deep brown to pale pink, like his. They had hair in similar earth tones that only grew out of the top of their head, like his. They were around his height, his build, rather than towering over him like Kolivan and Ulaz.

Was this why he had been chosen for this mission? Because he looked so much like them that he might as well have been one of them? Or... maybe he actually was one of them. Maybe his parents were from Altea.

He would have to ask Kolivan when he returned to Marmora. Surely Kolivan would want to know about Altea’s people. Maybe he would finally talk to Keith about his family.

Keith slowly eased the scarf off his head and let it settle around his neck. This would be easier without it covering his ears and hanging in his peripheral vision. Still, no one gave him a second look, if they even noticed him at all.

The temple was straight north. Keith darted through the crowd until the throng of shoppers was too thick for him to run, and he had to squeeze through instead. His toes caught on uneven cobblestones and ached. His skin crawled with every glancing contact with strangers, all around him, crushing in on him, until he broke free on the other side.

He turned a corner and crouched behind a building to catch his breath for a moment before continuing on.

Only a few more twists and turns before he reached the temple. This wasn’t so bad, even if the travel distance kind of sucked. In fact, it was almost –

All thoughts of this being easy died the instant Keith laid eyes on what he thought the map had marked as the temple.

Because it wasn’t a temple. It was a castle, a fortress. The central part of the building rose twice as tall as everything else, and was flanked on all four corners by what were clearly guard towers.

Shit. Keith rummaged through his bag for the map and frowned. This was definitely the right place, according to Ulaz. He had to find a way inside. And okay, maybe this was kind of easy, if the giant, arched entrance between two towers was any indication. It was open, too.

Keith squared his shoulders. His heart thudded, and he swallowed hard. All he had to do was walk inside, find the gem, and get out of there.

Back home to Marmora.

Away from Altea, the first possible answer to all his questions about who he really was.

He sighed and curled his hands in his cloak. Gem first, questions later. Kolivan and Krolia would be pissed if he wasted time here.

But... they must have known. Someone had clearly scouted out the area enough to draw a detailed map of the town. They would have seen how the people here looked like Keith, and they would have told Kolivan.

And Kolivan hadn’t said a word.

Keith frowned. No, Kolivan had told Keith not to let his emotions control his actions, and wasn’t that enough of a clue that he knew? He shook his head. He’d figure that out later, after he got the gem.

A pair of young women – he assumed they were women, since they looked like him but were built more like Krolia – left the castle, arm in arm and smiling at something. Keith crouched and darted behind them, into the open entrance and behind a conveniently-placed curtain.

Okay. He was inside. He could do this.

The minutes passed as he waited and observed. People entered and left the castle, serene and cheerful. The light from outside slowly dwindled, until he knew it was near dusk.

Still the doors stayed open.

Keith poked his head around the curtain and glanced in every direction he could think of. The castle seemed empty now, at least on this ground level. A quick dash down the hallway confirmed that guess; no one was here.

He slowed to a jog, then to a quick walk, as he scouted out the building. The arches stretching from wall to ceiling were really nice, and – huh. They got more ornate in one direction. He turned and followed them.

And found what must have been the temple part of the building.

Columns rising from a narrow reflecting pool ringed the circular room, alternating with small pots filled with plants. Torches flickered on the walls. The giant, majestic black lion sculpture stood in the very center of a raised platform, face stretching toward the sky. Around it were four more lions, smaller and more colorful, looking out at the room around them. In the middle of its chest sat the gem, glinting in the flickering torchlight. He couldn’t tear his eyes from it; every flash of light across it drew him in further.

Keith sighed in relief. He had found it. He unsheathed his knife and took a step forward.

Right into a group of people – with a guard. He almost dropped his knife, and it cut right through someone’s sleeve.

“Shit!” he cursed.

A few of them gasped or yelped, especially as he fumbled with his knife. He quickly twisted around and sprinted at the lion, jamming the point of the blade into the groove where gem met marble.

It wouldn’t give.

Keith’s lungs spasmed. It – it _wouldn’t give_ , and he couldn’t get the gem out.

A heavy hand wrenched his knife free and threw him to the floor. He scrambled to his feet, snatching up his knife and whipping it up to block the broadsword swinging down at his head.

He cried out as the blow vibrated up his arms. Fuck, that hurt.

Then the sword drew back and wound up for another strike, and Keith scrambled away.

This guard was strong, seriously strong. He leapt after Keith, holding the broadsword like it was light as a ribbon, slamming it into Keith’s knife like it was nothing.

Keith winced and whimpered with every hit. He couldn’t keep this up. He –

“Ah!” he screamed, as the flat of the sword struck at his shins. He went down hard, smacking his head into the floor with an echoing crack.

His knife had skittered out of reach. The guard wound up for another strike.

No, no no no, he couldn’t just – he was going to die here, and –

Keith curled up on his side, shoulders hunched up over his neck and arms draped over his knees. But no blow came. He glanced up, then back down, squeezing his eyes shut. The guard stood over him, sword at the ready.

“Just make it quick,” he said, hating the tremor in his voice. He curled up a little tighter and pressed his forehead against his knees. “Please.”

“Allura, he’s just a kid,” the guard said. He sounded spooked and looked haunted.

Keith somehow found it in himself to be irritated at being called a kid, and surprised that the guard spoke the same language he did.

A delicate touch drew his face away from his legs. A young woman with white hair and brown skin looked him over. Her ears were pointed at the top, like Krolia’s, though her face stripes were smaller and brighter.

“What brings you here today, thief?”

Keith pressed his lips shut and shied away from her.

She sighed. “Take him outside, Shiro.” Her hand pulled away from his cheek. “Don’t let him come back.”

The guard hauled Keith to his feet and all but dragged him, limping along, out of the temple.

“Wait, please.”

“Let’s go.” The guard’s tone left no room for argument, and his tight grip on Keith’s wrists left no room to escape.

Keith’s head hung low. He had screwed this all up. Got caught and banned before he could get the gem out. What would Kolivan say when he returned home empty-handed? Had he actually doomed the Marmora people?

He could stick around, maybe, and try to break in at night. Or get a change of clothes and try blending in with a crowd.

The guard stopped just inside the entrance and Keith stumbled.

“What really brought you here?”

Keith looked up at him, then fixed his eyes to the floor. His stomach twisted. With a scar over his nose and a fully armored right arm, this guard was intimidating, in a way that the much larger Marmora people back home weren’t. He was built to fight. Maybe even built to kill.

“Allura is very kind, but she doesn’t look too highly on someone vandalizing the temple.”

“I wasn’t trying to vandalize it!”

“Then what were you doing? Why were you trying to damage the lion?” The guard shook him by his wrists when he didn’t answer.

Keith glared, curling his lips inward and pressing them in place with his teeth. He wouldn’t talk no matter what the guard did to him. The guard gave him a curious look, then jerked back.

“Hey, hey. I’m not going to – just relax, alright?” He led Keith outside and let go of his wrists. “Go home and stay out of trouble.”

Then he turned on his heel, strode back into the castle, and slammed the doors shut behind him.

His knife was still inside.

He had to get it back.

******

Shiro turned the knife over in his hands.

Odd, how it reminded him of the Galra, yet was nothing like their weapons. Maybe a one-off piece by a smith showing off their skill? It was certainly very finely crafted; the emblem in the center almost glowed, with how polished it was.

Go figure that it would end up in the hands of such a troublemaker.

“What an evening,” Allura grumbled. “This was my favorite cloak, too.”

Shiro glanced at her sleeve. The cut was clean. “I’m sure Coran can find a way to repair it.”

Her lip curled up in one corner, and she lounged across the armchair, every inch a queen. “He does love clothing more than anyone else I know. What’s that you have?”

“The thief’s knife.” He held it out for her. “What do you make of it?”

Allura leaned over, balancing her elbows on her knees and craning her neck to see it from every angle. Her brows creased; her shoulders hunched, and she slouched back on the armchair.

“It seems so familiar, but I can’t say why. Only that it makes me a little sad.”

Shiro nodded, closing his right hand around the blade and –

“Shit!” His hand snapped open and the knife clattered to the floor.

“Shiro, what happened?”

“It – it hurt.”

Allura shot to her feet. “How? The Galra made your arm to be indestructible.”

He twisted his hand around. It wasn’t damaged, but his fingers still ached. “I don’t know.”

The knife glittered in the candlelight, no longer looking as charming and pretty as it had seemed only a few minutes prior. A frown pulled at Shiro’s face.

“Get rid of it,” Allura said. “Somewhere outside the city walls. It’s not meant to be here.”

Shiro nodded, brushing his left hand over the blade. Even though the edges were sharp, they didn’t radiate pain up his flesh arm like they did his constructed arm.

“Shiro?”

The light touch of Allura’s fingers on his shoulder startled him, and he dropped the knife again. He was aware of the intensity of her gaze, even as he avoided it. His right hand twitched and flexed and curled.

“Do you want me to take it?” she asked.

He shook his head and slowly stood as well. “No. No, I’ll... I’ll be fine.It’s... I haven’t felt like my arm was missing since the war. I’m going to walk around and get some fresh air.”

Allura frowned. “Shiro, I know we’re not especially close, but I do want you to know I consider you a friend, and not just because you’re one of the few Alteans left.”

“Half-Altean,” he corrected.

“Close enough. You’re already shaping up to have the lifespan of one.” She reached towards him, pausing with her hand a few inches from his arm. “If something is bothering you, you can talk to me about it.”

Shiro pasted a smile on his face. “Of course, Allura.”

His smile must have looked strained, if the pinched look she gave him in return was any indication. But she patted his shoulder and walked with him out of his room and down the hall, hugging him goodnight when he turned left and she turned right.

Shiro frowned at the knife. Best to wrap it in his cloak so he wasn’t touching it directly; it was probably cursed, and he didn’t want to find out the details of that the hard way.

His feet automatically carried him on his usual morning patrol path around the lower levels, while he gazed out every window he came across and stared blankly at the tapestries between them. He had memorized the epic stories they illustrated, but right now they looked like nothing more than blurry shadows in the dark.

He only stopped when the echoes from his footsteps were joined by a crash.

Shiro froze. Who else was here? Generally, only the ballroom and temple were ever open to guests, and only on certain days and at certain times, and –

“Fuck!” a familiar voice yelped from the direction of the temple.

It had to be the thief. The thief who brought a _cursed knife_ into this place.

Shiro charged down the halls, intent on chasing out the intruder. Rounding the corner without looking, he barreled into someone and send them sprawling on the tile floor.

And then automatically opened his mouth to apologize, like he did every time he bumped into someone on his patrols.

Terrified, defiant eyes stared up at his face. He hadn’t seen a look like that since –

He bit his tongue, drawing his sword and brandishing it at the thief’s chin.

“Here.” Shiro dropped the knife on the floor, then kicked it over to the thief’s thigh. “Take it and go.”

A delicate hand reached out, then snatched the knife close. Shiro relaxed and let his sword drop a few inches. The thief’s eyes flicked back to the lion. Shiro’s sword snapped back to his chin.

“Don’t even think about it.”

The thief knocked Shiro’s sword aside with his knife. “I need the gem. You can’t stop me.”

Shiro stepped forward, and the thief scrambled back on elbows and heels. Why was he so determined? It was just a pretty piece of crystal set in a carved chunk of granite. Of course, Allura had mentioned the crystal itself being special for reasons known only to sacred Alteans like herself, but the thief was hardly Altean and so would have no knowledge of this, right?

“Why do you want it so badly?” Shiro asked. The thief scowled and scooted back another step. Shiro sighed. “If you’re going to keep trying, can I at least understand why?”

After a moment, that scowl softened into something like confusion and a mix of a dozen other emotions Shiro couldn’t identify.

“What does it matter? I have to get it. It’s important. I can’t go home without it.”

He was so young, just barely an adult, and he treated the task of prying a gem out of a lion sculpture like a matter of life and death.

And... what if it was, to him?

Shiro’s imagination spun in circles. Had he been... kicked out? Disowned? Maybe it was some kind of messed-up attempt at teaching humility, since he definitely had pride in spades. Maybe they wanted him to get in trouble. No matter how Shiro looked at it, it felt manipulative, and certainly wasn’t the kind of thing a loving family would do.

Shiro sheathed his sword and crossed his arms. “May I have your name?”

“...Keith.” His voice sounded pained. He glanced at where Shiro’s sword belt hung over his hip, then to the lion, then to a doorway.

“Keith. Anyone who tries to withhold something like home, or acceptance, in order to make you do something impossible... they aren’t worth the effort.”

Keith actually rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You don’t understand.”

“Perhaps not.” Shiro uncrossed his arms and rested his hands on his hips. Maybe he had guessed wrong. “But I do know that, however that gem got in there, it’s never getting back out.”

Keith muttered something under his breath.

“It’s a pretty rock that looks nice but does nothing special. I could understand someone wanting you to push past what you think your limit is, or to strive to get something useful, but not to deface a sculpture inside a temple.”

“I _told_ _you_ I wasn’t trying to deface it!”

“What else would you call damaging something to get at what’s inside?”

Keith opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. He glared and rose to his feet. “This isn’t over,” he snarled over his shoulder as he stormed out toward the exits.

Shiro huffed and shook his head. What a dramatic young man.

******

Why Allura had sent Shiro to measure the dimensions of the entire secondary entrance complex, he would never know. He’d measured it for at least a dozen other Peace Festivals, and it never actually changed, even if her ideas for decorations had this time around. _And_ he was sure he’d written the numbers down somewhere every single time, and why did he let her sucker him into doing this again? Oh, right, because he hadn’t actually listened to a word she’d said in the planning meeting before agreeing. Should have known better. And –

There stood Keith, right in the middle of the hallway, eyes wide and lips pressed shut.

Shiro sighed and rested his hand on his sword. “Again, really?”

Keith took a few steps back. “No.”

“Then what brings you here today?”

“Just... getting some shade.”

Shiro glanced out the open doors. Sure, it was sunny, but no more than usual for the time of year. And it wasn’t very warm, either.

“Right.” He turned back to Keith and raised an eyebrow.

Keith shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Everything is covered in trees where I’m from.”

“Trees?” Shiro hadn’t seen real trees in years. Even the bordering mountains had nothing taller than scrubby bushes. “Covering everything.”

“Yeah.” Keith scowled at the sunny ground and shook out his arms, skin shiny and shirt damp with sweat. It was the same shirt he’d worn every time he had come around, and Shiro was starting to suspect it was his only shirt.

His fingers curled around the measuring tape in his pocket. “Hey, how about you help me out with this?”

“Hm?” Keith twisted around. “With what?”

“Well, I need to get the dimensions of this hall, and a few more, and some doorways, for Queen Allura.” He offered one end of the tape to Keith. “It’ll go a lot faster with someone to hold that for me, and you’ll stay out of the sun. What do you say?”

Keith hesitated just long enough to make it awkward, then shrugged. “Sure. Not like I have anything better to do.”

“Oh, I feel so flattered,” Shiro drawled, then froze at Keith’s bewildered expression. Shit, he shouldn’t have let that slip. He didn’t know Keith enough to joke like that. He... he didn’t know Keith at all.

“I’m... sorry?”

Shiro’s words left him in a rush. “No, don’t be. I’m the one who should apologize.”

Keith watched him, wary and quiet, but still took the other end of the measuring tape.

He stood everywhere Shiro told him to, held the tape to whatever corner Shiro wanted, and gave casual shrugs or small smiles in response to Shiro’s ramblings.

And ramble he did.

He told Keith all about the Holts, who designed the most intricate machinery, for battle or business or just for fun, in the case of Pidge’s kites. He told him about Lance’s ridiculous crush on Allura, and how he struck out every time he tried to flirt, because he couldn’t see past Allura’s appearance to the person underneath it all. He told him about Coran, flamboyantly himself in every way, and the crazy stories _he_ would tell. He was halfway through a story of baking gear-shaped cookies with Hunk to make a functional miniature gingerbread tank when Keith laughed and shook his head.

“I remember trying to cook dinner with Regris when we were both kids, and almost set fire to Krolia’s kitchen.”

Shiro paused. This was the first he’d heard anything of Keith’s life, and it warmed something inside him. “Tell me about them?”

Keith looked deeply uncomfortable at that, curling his fingers into fists and biting at his lip. “Regris and I grew up together. Only two orphans in town. Krolia is... well, she took care of me when I was a kid, whenever she was around. Otherwise I stayed with Regris.”

Shiro couldn’t think of anything to say. Keith being an orphan with an unreliable caretaker shouldn’t have surprised him; there was no real reason for him to think about Keith’s childhood in the first place. But it did, and he ached with some kind of sympathy for the young man before him.

But then Keith hunched his shoulders and dropped his head down, clenching the measuring tape and barking out, “Where do I hold this, again?”

Back to business, it seemed.

“Up against the arch,” Shiro answered, already walking to the opposite arch.

For the remaining half hour they worked on the hallway, Keith said nothing. He did open his mouth a dozen times, like he wanted to speak, but never followed through. Shiro found himself similarly short on words, his previous stories having dried up to little more than a withered stump in the steppe outside Altea’s walls.

“Thank you, Keith,” he said, as he wound up the measuring tape and wrote down the last of the numbers.

When Keith didn’t reply, he looked up, and found himself alone in the hallway.

Great.

Shiro knew Keith couldn’t have passed him without notice, and the only exit was behind him. He had a pretty good idea where Keith had gone.

He found him circling the lion sculptures in the temple, arms crossed and brows pulled tight together.

“Back again?”

Keith visibly startled, then reached for his knife.

“Relax,” Shiro said, surprising both Keith and himself, “I’m not going to kick you out. Just... don’t try to pry the gem out, okay?”

Except twenty seconds ago, he had absolutely been planning on kicking Keith out. He huffed and kept an eye on Keith instead, watching as he shuffled awkwardly around the outer edge of the temple room.

“See anything interesting?” Shiro asked.

Keith startled and snapped his eyes to Shiro’s. His hands gripped his elbows. “No, it’s... uh, bye, I guess,” he murmured, glancing at the floor before turning and almost running out.

Shiro stared after him, almost disappointed to see him go.

Huh.

******

The plaza at dusk was a wide, vacant expanse, with neatly laid cobblestones marking off abstract walking paths. Some debris, mostly splintered wood and scraps of cloth, remained from the earlier market. Keith kicked at a pebble and watched it bounce away.

Why did he keep talking to the guard like that? Kolivan had even warned him not to interact with other people! All he was doing was giving away more about himself, which Krolia had always cautioned him against. The guard already knew exactly where he had gone when he gave him the slip.

Whatever. Fuck that guy. He’d get the gem eventually, and then he could go home.

But the guard was kind, and friendly, even to someone he’d crossed blades with. He didn’t throw Keith out of the temple, this time. He seemed like he wanted to understand Keith.

No one had really tried since he and Regris were children learning to be friends.

Keith shivered and sighed.

He kicked another rock across the plaza, towards the giant statue that loomed over the center. He could see a dramatic crown on one of them, but the other two figures were behind it from where he stood, and he wasn’t that interested anyway.

The third rock he wound up to kick glinted in the fading light. Keith knelt and picked it up; it was flat and shiny, with a man’s face etched on one side and a weird symbol on the other. Not a rock at all. Had someone lost it? Was it a keepsake? Etching metal like that wasn’t easy.

Huh. Keith pocketed it and set off in search of a new place to sleep; the owners of the building where he’d holed up the last week had finally discovered him and chased him out.

He woke the following morning with a sore neck and back. The only place he’d found for shelter was just outside the city walls, where a giant rock and a thick support beam met and made a small alcove. It wasn’t ideal, but it was far less likely to draw the attention of angry locals or the guards.

It was also nowhere near comfortable. He would have to get the gem sooner rather than later. He couldn’t take many more days of waking up feeling like shit.

And everyone back home was probably worried.

He stumbled to a stop, halfway to the castle.

_Were_ they worried? Regris almost definitely was; he and Keith were close friends by default, since there was no one else their age in the village. A lot of small children, and a lot of adults, but no one else within ten years on either side of Keith. But what if he didn’t know? Keith had... Keith hadn’t even said goodbye to him. Had he actually said goodbye to anyone before Kolivan had escorted him right to the village gates?

For all Krolia and Thace had said about the Marmora village being one big family, the Marmora leaders didn’t hesitate to be cutthroat with their own people.

A cold wind stirred up from the south. It was nice, after a week of hot, still air, and Keith smiled. It wasn’t even sunny today!

Every local who passed him, however, looked concerned and upset, hurrying along to wherever they were going. They probably weren’t used to anything less than sweltering, and Keith felt a little smug over it. He was fine in cooler weather. He was –

A raindrop smacked him on the nose.

He had a fleeting thought that rain would be kind of nice, too; that thought beat a hasty retreat as a wall of water fell from the sky and landed directly on his head.

Well, that was annoying. He picked up his pace towards the palace and temple, grumbling to himself, when a sharp crackle-boom echoed overhead.

“Ah!” Keith yelped, tripping over his own feet and landing hard on his elbows.

Marmora had _rain_ , soft and gentle and quiet, not _this_. Not sky-splitting arcs of light that reached for the ground and shook the air. Not heavy sheets of water that felt like being smothered.

Keith was not too proud to admit to himself that he was frightened.

Keith was not too proud to run to the palace and hope it was open.

******

It didn’t rain often in Altea, but when it did, it stormed, violent and brutal with flashes of lightning and downpours so thick and heavy they felt like solid rock. Allura would always sit at an open window and enjoy the sound and smell. Coran would ramble through story after story of the storms of his youth.

Shiro would stroll through the main floor halls and poke his head out of the doors. Something about storms always had his feet itching to move, and today was no exception. And if he rolled his eyes as he walked through every section he’d had to measure a few days ago, well, no one else had to know that.

Today, Allura had holed herself up in one of the many ceremonial rooms in the temple, discussing more Peace Festival preparations with Coran and Romelle. Granted, she probably had one of the windows open, but –

Keith stood just outside the palace, tucked under a slight overhang by the entrance, looking as miserable as a half-drowned cat. His clothes – still the same as always – clung to his skin in awkward places.

With the doors almost shut, Shiro nearly missed him, but he doubled back and eased the doors open the rest of the way.

“Trees block the rain where you’re from, too?” Shiro asked, at the same time as lightning cracked overhead.

Keith jumped, whirled around, and stumbled, landing on his side in the mud.

Shiro couldn’t help but crack up. He extended his left hand to Keith, smiling. “Come on, you can stay inside until the storm passes.”

His smile fell when he got a good look at Keith’s face. Keith... well, he looked like he might cry. But he took Shiro’s hand anyway, hauling himself to his feet with barely a tug on Shiro’s arm.

“This is bullshit,” he grumbled.

“I know,” Shiro soothed. “No one likes getting caught in the rain. Or the mud.”

Keith glowered at him. “I wasn’t even supposed to be here this long.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. “Right. The gem. Well, hopefully whoever you’re staying with doesn’t mind you being here a little longer.”

At that, Keith was quiet. Not his usual quiet either, where he just didn’t seem to want to talk, but a suspicious quiet like he actively wanted to _avoid_ saying anything.

“Keith?”

Silence. Shiro’s gut twisted.

“Come on, let’s get you out of the rain.”

Keith didn’t put up much resistance as Shiro dragged him indoors. “I don’t... I’m not staying with anyone.”

“Renting a room, then? At least most of the hostels have washbins you can use for your clothes.”

“What’s a hostel?”

How could someone not know what a hostel was? Every town in the continent had at least one. Honestly, he – wait. Shiro froze. Frowned. Turned and stared.

Keith’s clothes... definitely hadn’t been washed in the past week. He smelled a little ripe, though the rain had rinsed some of that off. His hair was tangled and greasy, and even had a few leaves stuck in it.

Shiro held his breath, then let it out in a low hiss. “Keith, where are you staying?”

“Uh... Well, I _was_ staying in a storeroom behind someone’s house, but then they found me and...”

“And?”

Keith swallowed hard. “There’s a little cave just outside the walls.”

Shiro almost gasped. “No. Keith, you can’t just – no.”

“Is it... not allowed?”

“That’s not what I...”

Shiro trailed off as the tension that had been slowly building in his stomach finally snapped.

Keith wasn’t a child, but he was still young, and he was out in the world without any family or support. Shiro had been there, after the war. Keith didn’t need consternation; he needed help. He needed someone to care, and the core of Shiro’s oath of service had been to serve those in need.

Would it be too much to offer Keith a place to stay? His quarters did have an extra bed, and Keith didn’t seem _hostile_ so much as _defensive_. But he was still a relative stranger, an unknown, with one of the few data points about him being his attempted theft of Temple property.

Then Keith sniffled and rubbed his nose, looking the very picture of misery, and Shiro sighed. The gem was just a gem, and it couldn’t be removed anyway. Keith was a person in need of help.

“Come with me, okay? You can wash up and get some dry clothes.”

The corners of Keith’s mouth turned down, but he stepped closer to Shiro and nodded.

He was silent the whole way to Shiro’s quarters, squelching footsteps aside, and gave one-word responses as Shiro pointed out the washroom and the towels.

Keith nodded and mumbled a quiet, “Thanks,” before he shut the door behind him.

Well. That happened. Shiro ran a hand through his hair and sighed. What now?

Surely there was something in Shiro’s wardrobe that would fit Keith. They were fairly close in height, even if Keith was so much slimmer. He rummaged through his few remaining pieces of casual clothing, and dismissed them all; Keith seemed to prefer fuller coverage of his skin, and all these had wide necks and slashed sleeves.

But the alternative was for Keith to put his old clothing on again, and those were so far beyond gross that Shiro would have contemplated burning them if he didn’t think Keith had no other belongings.

Oversized, skin-baring shirts it was.

At least pants were somewhat easier. Shiro had a few worn pairs of drawstring pants he slept in on occasion, when too lazy to change into his actual pajamas. They should fit.

He coughed and blushed. He was definitely not loaning Keith any of his underwear.

A splash and the sound of the tub draining let him know that Keith was done with his bath. He gathered the shirt and pants in his arms and knocked on the washroom door.

“Keith? It’s Shiro. I’ve got some clean clothes you can borrow.”

The door swung open and –

“Oh, thank you,” Keith said, taking the clothes from Shiro’s arm with a shy smile and closing the washroom door once again.

Fuck.

Keith was gorgeous.

His entire torso was lean, sculpted muscle, perfect pale skin, and a faint dusting of hair across his chest and down his abdomen. The towel he had loosely wrapped around his hips did nothing to hide the dip by his pelvis or the graceful sweep of his legs.

And while Shiro had noticed, in a detached sort of way, that Keith’s face was attractive, it was nothing next to seeing it with his skin still damp and his hair brushed away from his eyes.

Shiro stared at the closed door for an embarrassing amount of time before he exhaled and let his arms drop to his side. The storm outside slowed.

There was definitely something about this that felt weird. It was too convenient, too coincidental, for it to be anything natural. It didn’t make sense, but it also made too much sense, and Shiro was out of his depths with whatever Keith’s deal was.

Well, he had a room to prepare and a proposition to make.

He had just tucked the last blanket on the guest bed when the washroom door swung open. Keith had the towel on his head, rubbing his hair dry, as the sleeves of the shirt swung back and forth with every movement. A sliver of sunlight peeked through a window and cast Keith’s shoulders in a golden glow.

Shiro wrung his hands together, took a deep breath, and steeled himself.

“So, Keith...”

Keith turned and wound the towel around his hands. He tilted his head to the side and Shiro’s stomach dropped into his feet.

“I, uh... I...” Shiro stammered, suddenly feeling like a disaster. “I have a second bedroom here, if you, uh, if the cave is too wet, or, uh...”

Keith furrowed his eyebrows. Shiro swallowed hard.

“Just... uh... you can stay here, as long as you’re in town.”

“I don’t have anything to give you,” Keith said.

Shiro cleared his throat. “I’m not going to charge you any money. But you can’t take your knife into the temple, okay?”

Great. He was already making _allowances_ for Keith to keep investigating the gem he so clearly wanted to steal.

Keith stared for a long, long moment, eyes so piercing that Shiro felt locked in place. Then he folded the towel, hung it over the rod in the washroom, and shrugged. “I guess. I have to get my stuff from the cave, though.”

Shiro’s heart may as well have stopped in that moment.

“Great. The storm is passed, so. Uh, you can just leave your clothes behind, and I’ll put them in with my laundry.”

Keith looked back at his clothes on the floor. “Okay. I’ll... I’ll be back in a bit.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the door, then slipped out without another word.

Suddenly Shiro’s quarters felt a lot lonelier.

******

This was a tactical decision, Keith told himself. Repeatedly. It was purely the closer proximity to the lion sculpture that had him agreeing to stay with the guard – Shiro, right? Shit, he hoped he was right. He hadn’t needed to learn new names for his whole life.

Shiro’s quarters were cozy and warm, in a way only the house Regris shared with Thace and Ulaz had been back home. Kolivan and Antok’s house sometimes came close, but they were so... weird. Keith’s room in Krolia’s home had always felt like it was missing something he couldn’t define.

Here, the wall had been covered in smooth wood panels, and every seat had a blanket within reach. The common room was small but didn’t feel cramped, with a few cushy chairs around a short table. Keith hadn’t yet been in Shiro’s bedroom, but it looked just as comfortable from the doorway.

The guest room, the one Keith would be sleeping in, was sparsely furnished and the air smelled a little stale, but it still felt more like home than anywhere else in Altea. The blankets were soft and clean. The bed was a little lumpy but comfortable. Keith flopped onto his back and kicked his legs up.

Shiro gave him a nervous smile from the doorway. “Is it alright?”

“A lot better than the cave.”

Then Shiro chuckled, and – oh, that was a nice sound. Made Keith’s stomach flip and his toes get tingly and his face flush red. Here he was, wearing Shiro’s clothes, laying on Shiro’s bed, getting flustered by Shiro’s laugh.

He bolted upright, almost overbalancing. What even was this?

Shiro didn’t seem to notice, though. “You can stay as long as you need.”

Keith nodded and crossed his legs.

“I’ll be pretty busy the next week, though. Festival preparations,” Shiro added, with a playful grimace.

“Festival?” Keith leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He’d never been to one. “What’s it like?”

“The... the Peace Festival?” A single crease formed between Shiro’s eyebrows.

“I’ve never heard of it,” Keith said.

“Oh. It’s to celebrate the end of the war, nineteen years ago.”

Keith leaned back. “What war?”

“I... What...” Shiro stammered over a few words, trying to string them together, then shook his head and sighed. “Your hometown must be quite remote, if you weren’t affected by it.”

“It is.”

“Well then. About.... thirty years ago, the Galra Empire attacked both the Kingdom of Altea and the Human colonies. They... they almost wiped us out, but we survived and they were defeated.”

Shiro’s eyes were dark and unfocused, and his left hand was absently rubbing his right shoulder.

Keith stared. Shiro was in casual clothes, now, wearing a soft shirt with slashed sleeves like the one he loaned Keith. But the armor on his right arm, armor that Keith assumed was something between decorative and functional, peeked through the slit in the fabric.

And his fingers were the same dark metal.

He cleared his throat, trying to fight the sudden tightness in it. “You were there?”

“Huh?” Shiro’s hand quickly stilled. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, that’s what... that’s what happened to my arm.”

He looked so lost, so haunted, that Keith found himself scrambling for any change in subject.

“So, uh, this is going to sound stupid, but... are you Altean or Human?”

Shiro visibly startled, eyes wide, then threw his head back and laughed. “Hah! Seriously?”

“Oh, come on, Shiro!” It wasn’t even embarrassing, but Keith could feel the blush growing.

“Very remote hometown, huh,” Shiro managed between chuckles.

“It is! No one calls themselves anything. And no one else there looks like me.”

It wasn’t entirely true; they all called themselves Marmora. But that was more in the sense of being part of the extended Marmora family and less like an actual race.

At last, Shiro shook his head and shrugged. “I’m half and half. But for those of us who are mixed, the Human side is always the most visible.” He gave Keith a half-grin, then turned to leave. “You might have some Human in you as well.”

The door clicked shut behind him, and Keith buried his head in his hands.

A war, ended nineteen years ago, waged in part by people who looked like him. Could that be what happened to his parents?

A few hours passed, and soon Keith could hear Shiro’s snores from his bedroom.

He needed to think. He needed to – fuck it, this was just a means to an end, and he had to get the gem and go home, before he got any more tangled up in this place. Or in Shiro.

Keith heaved himself out of the bed and tiptoed through Shiro’s rooms, through the hallway, and down to the temple.

It had been a few hours before dusk when he’d returned from gathering his belongings from the alcove. Now, it was dark enough that only the light from the twin moons lit the hallway to the temple room. Inside the temple, the weird torches on the wall cast an eerie glow over the lions. The gem in the center lion’s chest glittered.

There was nothing Keith could do right now. He had promised Shiro that he wouldn’t bring his knife into the temple, and apparently had followed that promise without thinking.

Well. He could sit and stare and mope, at least.

So he did.

The moons arced over the earth. The torches dimmed the later it got. Keith’s butt ached from where he sat. But still, he stared, and he moped.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Keith twisted around and winced at the cramps in his legs. Shiro was leaning against a pillar, just like he had leaned against the doorway a few hours ago, arms crossed and eyes soft. He had a blanket draped over his shoulder.

“I didn’t bring my knife,” Keith blurted out.

Shiro chuckled and shook his head. “I didn’t think you would.”

Oh. Keith’s face flamed red again and he tucked it against his knees, feeling kind of like an idiot. What was it about Shiro that brought this out of him?

Sure footsteps approached him, as Shiro settled in to Keith’s right side.

“I have to,” Keith mumbled. He just couldn’t control his mouth tonight, could he? It flapped on without his consent. “I have to do this, or my village won’t survive.”

Shiro sighed. “What do you have to do?”

“The – the Oracle said I have to get the Heart of the Black Lion.” Keith slumped over his knees and stared up at the lion sculptures. Shiro went stiff next to him. Keith shivered. “But why would he tell me to do that if it’s impossible?”

They were silent for several minutes, before Shiro wrapped and arm and the blanket around Keith’s shoulders. “Nothing’s impossible, Keith,” he whispered. “We’ll stay a few minutes, but then we’re going back to sleep, okay?”

Keith nodded, fighting the sting behind his eyes, and curled his fingers into the blanket.

It was just like Kolivan’s.

******

Keith scrambled off the black armchair the second he heard Shiro’s footsteps down the hall and jumped into the brown one like he’d been there all day. In reality, he’d been sitting in Shiro’s favorite chair every night for the past week. It smelled like him, and Keith liked how he smelled, and...

Shiro swung the door open and stepped through, beaming. “Allura is finally done with the Peace Festival preparations!”

“That’s a good thing?”

“Yes. Yes it is.” Shiro dropped into the black chair. “Now I have time to spend with you. Now I can ask you to go to see it with me.”

Keith wasn’t completely sure what Shiro meant by having time to spend with him. Shiro already spent every evening with Keith, and occasionally brought food when he wasn’t sure Keith was eating enough. And he usually wasn’t eating enough.

He had figured out that the small piece of engraved metal was money, used in lieu of trading in order to buy things. He still didn’t know what this particular piece of money was called, or how valuable it was, or how much food he could buy with it. So he just scavenged for scraps.

“Maybe you could get one of those blankets for yourself at the Festival, too.”

Keith snapped his head up to see Shiro grinning at him. His fingers found the edge of the blanket he had draped over his shoulders, and he bit his lip, blushing.

Shiro sighed, and said, in the most long-suffering tone, “Then I could finally be reunited with mine. My dear old friend. How I have missed it so.”

“What...?” Keith scrambled for words and came up with nothing.

“It’s the worst kind of betrayal, having your favorite blanket spend all its time with someone else, you know.” Shiro dropped his head back and held his hands open like he was pleading with the gods.

Then he shot Keith a grin and started cracking up.

“Ass!” Keith barked, balling up the blanket and lobbing it at Shiro’s face.

Shiro only laughed harder. Keith’s own mutinous lips began to stretch upward as well.

And Shiro was so attractive it hurt.

Keith didn’t have any experience with attraction like this. As a child, he had told many of the adults around him that they were pretty, mostly Krolia and Thace, to his deepest, most self-conscious shame. But that wasn’t attraction; they were objectively pretty, and Keith as a child had no filter.

No, growing up with only a surrogate brother near his age had left Keith with no experience handling _this_ kind of attraction, the type that made his stomach churn in a good way.

“So, the Festival?” Shiro asked.

Keith stared dumbly for a second. “They have blankets there?”

Shiro cracked up again. “Some of the regular market vendors set up shop at the Festival, too. They only bring their best wares, like those blankets, and only sell them at the Peace Festival.”

Keith tugged the blanket off his shoulders and spread it over his lap. It was flawless, with perfectly woven strands of whatever the fiber was, alternating stripes of black and white.

“What else does the Festival have?” he found himself asking.

“So much. It’s the best night of the year,” Shiro gushed, babbling on about the food and music and dancing and decorations, how this year it would be two days instead of one, and there would be a dusk-to-dawn bonfire, and –

And Keith might have heard it all, but he comprehended none of it, too drawn into Shiro’s voice and the joy on his face.

“Alright, alright,” he laughed, as Shiro made the hard press to get him to come. “I’ll go with you.”

He had to amend his earlier thoughts. Shiro wasn’t just attractive; he was radiant.

******

Faint bits of lively music filtered through the temple and into the palace where Shiro’s quarters were, through the door to the washroom where Keith gripped the edge of the tub and tried not to freak out.

He wanted to stay.

He wanted to stay with Shiro in this strange, giant city. He wanted to learn what it was like to pay for things with money all the time instead of trading items. He wanted to keep feeling that fluttering in his stomach every time Shiro smiled at him, until he became so used to it that the smiles just made him feel at home.

More at home than he ever felt with the rest of the Marmora.

Did... did he have to go back? The oracle had only told him to _get_ the heart, not that he had to _do_ anything with it. Could he just... grab it? Just to prove that he could? Then he could put it back right after, and no one else would know.

Keith grimaced and splashed some water on his face, then threaded his damp fingers through his hair. Did he look okay? He was wearing his old clothing tonight instead of one of Shiro’s borrowed shirts.

Shiro knocked on the door. “Hey, I’m ready whenever you are,” he said, sounding as chipper and cheerful as ever.

Keith took a deep breath. This would be fun, right? Right.

He just had to stop being nervous. Easy.

Shiro’s face lit up with a breathtaking smile when Keith emerged from the washroom. He, in a manner befitting one of the palace guards, was in his full guard regalia, and none of it shined half as brightly as his eyes no matter how polished it looked.

“Ready to go?”

Keith nodded. _Stop being nervous_. Yeah. Easy.

The plaza was full of people, tonight, and fewer market stalls than usual, only set up around the perimeter. The center, around the giant statue, had a stage with musicians on it, around which a crowd of festival-goers danced. There were Humans and Alteans, and a few other races Keith didn’t recognize, but none that looked like anyone from Marmora.

More than anything, though, the plaza was _bright_. The sun hung low in the sky, casting pink and orange highlights across the ground and on every sharp corner, and lighting up Shiro’s face like he was made of gold.

Or maybe that was just Shiro’s smile.

Everything felt warm in that strange way that gave Keith goosebumps. Shiro held his hand out in invitation, and curled his fingers around Keith’s as they connected.

“Come on,” he said, barely a whisper, “I want you to see everything.”

Keith nodded and swallowed hard, suddenly speechless as Shiro pulled him along to the row of merchants.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you always clinging to that blanket,” Shiro said, pulling a similar one off a table and draping it over Keith’s shoulders. “Maybe we should get you one of your own so I can have mine back.”

He exchanged some polite small talk with the blanket vendor, while Keith’s mind went fuzzy at the casual use of _we_. Then the blanket was removed from his shoulders and replaced with another one.

“Well? What pattern do you like best?” Shiro beamed at him, two more blankets in hand.

One of them was _identical_ to Kolivan’s, with dark blue and purple chevrons on a black background. Keith stared at it for so long that Shiro started to buy it, only stopped by Keith picking up a red and white striped one instead.

“This one,” he said, clinging to it. “How much is it?”

The vendor rattled off a few words that Keith barely understood – ten of something. Keith pulled the coin he’d found a few weeks ago from his pocket. He hadn’t yet learned to match them with the correct words for money, so he turned to Shiro with a question on the tip of his tongue.

Shiro gave the coin a funny look, but he didn’t take it. His fingers gently closed Keith’s fist around it instead. “It’s a gift, Keith.”

“Are you sure?”

No one had ever given him gifts without reason before. Regris tried, but they were both orphaned kids with nothing to their names. The best they could do was cool-looking rocks and tree branches they fashioned into rough knives for play-fights.

Shiro gave the vendor a handful of coins and grabbed the blanket from Keith’s arms, wrapping him in it with a smile. “Now I can have my blanket back in the evenings.”

Keith blinked a few times. “Or I’ll just take both,” he croaked out, smiling in return as Shiro laughed.

He kept the blanket around his shoulders as Shiro led him to a jewelry stand, and a food cart, and all manner of scarf and trinket merchants. Halfway around the ring of market stalls, Keith folded the blanket and tucked it under his arm; it was way too warm to keep himself bundled like that.

“Want me to put that back in the room? I have some stuff to drop off, too.”

Shiro had his own purchases under his arm, too: a new scarf for Allura, a pair of knit arm-warmers to cover his metal arm, something strange and mechanical-looking for the Holts.

“Sure.” Keith handed the blanket over.

“Great! I’ll be right back.”

Something in Keith’s chest tore right in half as he watched Shiro walk away. He knew it was temporary; he knew Shiro wasn’t leaving. But the idea of being apart from him made him ache from the inside out.

He wandered aimlessly, looking to small signs and tall ribbon poles for direction, even though he knew the lost feeling really started from inside him. Eventually, he found a bench near the giant statue, burying his head in his hands as soon as he sat down.

“Keith? Are you okay?”

Keith looked up into Shiro’s gray eyes, into the rosy red of the sunset lighting up his hair, and shook his head.

“I don’t want to leave,” he said.

Shiro’s eyes went wide, then, as he pulled Keith to his feet. “Hey. Who said you have to leave? The Festival is two days. It’s not over tonight.”

“That was... that was the whole point,” Keith said, clearing his throat and blinking rapidly. “Come here, do the job, don’t talk to anyone, and get out.” He swallowed around nothing. “But then I met you, and I... I don’t want to leave you.”

“Keith,” Shiro breathed, “you don’t have to leave me.” He squeezed Keith’s hand. “I don’t want you to leave.”

There was little Keith could hear over the rush of blood in his ears or the pounding in his chest.

Shiro’s other hand came up and cupped Keith’s chin. “I want you to stay.”

“I want to stay,” Keith whispered. His gaze drifted down to Shiro’s lips, then snapped back up to his eyes.

Shiro made a strained sound in the back of his throat, pulling Keith’s chin up and brushing their lips together.

Keith’s heart beat so hard that his ribs ached, as he and Shiro kissed slowly, softly, small presses and pecks as they figured each other out. Shiro smiled against his mouth, bumped their foreheads together, and draped his arms over Keith’s shoulders. It felt like a hug, but better.

“I feel like I’ve only been marking time for years,” he said. “I didn’t realize how lonely I was until you came along.”

The words buzzed through Keith’s head. “But you have so many friends.”

Shiro sighed and took a step back, guiding Keith along with him. “Yes and no. I’m friendly with them, but they’re more like... colleagues, I guess. We run in the same circles but we don’t spend time together outside of that. You know?”

“Not really, no,” Keith said, shaking his head but grinning. “But I understand what you mean, I think.”

It was like how Krolia was family but not, and how he and Regris were friends because there was no one else.

Keith let his eyes roam over the entire Festival now, full of music and dancing and joy, and full of Shiro and his smiles and their linked hands. Shiro leaned in and kissed him again.

“And Keith, you... you don’t have to leave, you know. The, uh, the heart of the Black Lion? That’s not the –”

Keith’s eyes caught on the three giant statues and his blood ran cold. “What is that?” he asked, cutting off Shiro mid-sentence. He had never been this close to the statues before.

But he could recognize that face anywhere.

Kolivan.

“Well, that one’s Allura, obviously, and there’s her father Alfor, who died in the war.” Shiro gripped his hand harder as he looked up at Kolivan’s statue. “This one is... he was the leader of the Blade of Marmora. They were Galra who didn’t believe in the Empire’s actions, and they worked with us, fighting from the inside. They were incredible spies and fighters. Their swords could cut through Galra steel like paper!” He sighed. “Without them, we would have lost so much more.”

Keith turned slowly to stare at Shiro, whose focus was anywhere but the present.

Galra. Everyone he knew was Galra.

“You know, I never actually learned his name? Allura knows it, of course, but no one else does and she won’t tell. They were so secretive. The only one I ever met in person was...” he trailed off, looking down at his right arm. He coughed and blinked away tears. “When the Galra put this arm on me, one of the doctors watching my recovery was one of the Blades. And he helped get me out of their prisons. Said his name was Ulaz, but it was probably an alias.”

“Ulaz.”

Shiro gave a wet laugh. “Funny name, right? I wish I’d had the chance to thank him, before he died.”

“Died?” Keith breathed. His lungs did weird things in his chest.

“Yeah. None of the Blade of Marmora survived the war.”

Except they had. But... the oracle had said they might not survive much longer. Keith glanced back up at the statue of Kolivan, and winced as one of the last things Kolivan had said to him popped into his head.

_Don’t let your emotions control your actions._

Fuck! He had done exactly that, too enchanted with Shiro to see anything else. He had a responsibility, and he was shirking it. And everyone here believed the Marmora to be dead. If he didn’t get off his ass to do what he was supposed to have done weeks ago, that might end up being true!

He stared up at Shiro’s face, Shiro’s gorgeous and vulnerable face, drinking it in with every second he hesitated. Then he brushed his hand over Shiro’s cheek, heart aching as Shiro leaned into the touch.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t stay.

“I’m sorry, Shiro,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Then he turned and ran.

He didn’t stop until he was safe inside the temple.

It was fortunate that the Festival drew any temple-goers out into the plaza and away from the lion statues tonight, Keith thought, mind blank of anything but weird observations and a whole lot of panic. He only barely noticed that the torches weren’t lit, their job for the night taken over by ornate candelabras.

He stared down at the knife at his waist.

No, no, he promised Shiro. He couldn’t bring it into the temple. Except, it already was inside the temple and –

Keith shook his head and stumbled towards the central lion. This gem, this stupid gem, just had to ruin everything. He raised his fist, smacking it over the crystal as tears gathered in the corner of his eyes.

And the gem wobbled, popping right out of its setting. Keith scrambled to catch it.

“What the fuck,” he gasped, curling his fingers around it.

His vision went fuzzy and hearing muted, as the gem heated up in his grasp. He heard Krolia screaming, heard the rasp of steel on steel, heard indistinct shouts of pain, before everything stabilized and he was back to the present.

Keith gasped again and again, wracking breaths that barely brought enough air into his lungs. Was that the village? Did something happen? Was he too late?

He staggered down the hallway, sliding along the wall to stay upright. Every few seconds, he’d get another burst of phantom sound in his ears or a fragment of some blurry image behind his eyes. Only his frequent trips between Shiro’s quarters and the temple helped guide him.

What the hell _was_ this gem?

It nearly slipped from his grasp as he pawed at Shiro’s door.

“Shit,” he muttered, tucking it under his arm and wrenching on the door handle.

At least without his bare skin touching the gem, he could function without being drawn into... whatever those were. Visions? Hallucinations?

Keith’s breath caught in his throat.

There was the blanket Shiro bought for him, sitting on an armchair next to Shiro’s own black and white striped version. And they looked so perfect together. A matched pair. He yanked them both up to his face and blinked away tears.

But no, he couldn’t have this. He had to go back to – the village.

It no longer felt like home; Shiro’s quarters held that honor, now. And Keith hadn’t realized how much he had wanted someone like Shiro in his life until it was too late.

He stalked into his bedroom, shoving the gem into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

He stopped at the door, sparing only a brief, indulgent glance back at Shiro’s home. This could have been his home, too. But he couldn’t stay.

“I’m sorry, Shiro.”

The words fell on an empty floor.

******

Shiro stood in the center of the plaza, staring dumbly at the empty space where Keith had disappeared into the crowd. He stared down at his hands, one flesh, one armored. He stared at the statues towering over him.

What had happened?

Things had been going so _well_ and then Keith ran off like... like...

Shiro hid his face in his hands and sighed. Had he done something? Said something? Maybe Keith was freaked out by the mention of the arm. Nothing else made sense.

“Hey Shiro!”

Lance’s chipper voice snapped him out of his daze, and he forced a smile.

“Hi, Lance.”

“Heard you had a hot date tonight!” Lance had his arms crossed, leaning against nothing so casually that Shiro expected him to fall over; he didn’t. His armor gleamed from excessive amounts of polish. “Guess that was just a rumor?”

That wiped the sad attempt at a smile right off Shiro’s face, and he curled his fists. But it wasn’t Lance’s fault.

“Had,” Shiro echoed. His voice sounded dull and distant to his own ears. “Not sure where he went.”

“Uh huh? Well then. I’ll help you look for him. What’s his name?”

“Keith.” Shiro went on to describe Keith’s general appearance, gesturing to show the length of his scarf and how his pants puffed with the breeze.

For all Lance rambled on about how he wished he’d brought Allura here as his date and made oblivious comments about Shiro’s love life, he did, at least, try to help find Keith. But after a half hour of combing through the lively crowds, it was clear that Keith wasn’t at the Festival any longer.

Shiro sighed and shook his head. “Thank you, Lance. I’ll check our rooms.”

“Wha – ‘our’ rooms?” Lance sputtered. “You’re living together? How long have you been seeing this guy?”

“Have fun at the Festival, Lance,” Shiro said, waving him off and almost running back to the palace.

The door to his quarters was just slightly ajar, and he sighed in relief. Keith had gone back to the rooms. Maybe he was just overwhelmed by the crowd of people. It wasn’t like Shiro hadn’t done weird things around large groups of people in fits of panic or stress after his escape.

“Keith?” Shiro pushed the door open.

At first glance, little had changed. The blankets were a little disheveled, and Shiro was surprised that Keith hadn’t curled up with the new one, but nothing was out of place.

He walked straight to Keith’s door and peeked his head into the bedroom. “Keith, are you okay?”

Keith wasn’t there.

Shiro bit his lip. Maybe Keith had gone to the temple. It seemed like it had become a sanctuary for him whenever he had to think.

The hallway was empty, the lighting dim, and something felt horribly wrong. A knot grew in Shiro’s gut, getting larger and larger until he finally reached the temple and its lion sculptures and a distressed Allura.

“Good evening, Shiro,” she said. She wrung her hands in front of her waist, staring unblinkingly at the largest lion.

Its gem was gone.

All the air left Shiro’s lungs and his knees buckled, sending him scrabbling for support against the wall. Keith was gone. “No. No, it can’t – he couldn’t have. Keith couldn’t have.”

“I don’t know, Shiro,” Allura murmured, sounding utterly defeated. “It is possible.”

Shiro could barely breathe. “How?”

Allura stepped forward and ran her hands over the empty setting. “The only people I’ve seen who could manipulate gems like that were Altean alchemists and Galra druids. I know I’m the last of the alchemists, and the druids were wiped out in the war, and those abilities were something we were born into.” She turned and looked at the floor in front of Shiro. “But before they were passed down through family lines, they were something that came out of nothing. Perhaps your Keith had that natural gift and didn’t know it.”

“There’s... there’s no way.”

“I hope you’re right,” Allura said. “Those gems can be cruel to those who hold them without training, showing only the worst of what they wish to know.”

Shiro slumped to the floor in a puddle of misery. “I should have told him. I had so many opportunities and I wasted them all.”

Allura frowned at him, the first real expression on her face since he had walked in. “Told him what?”

“It was me.” He let out a breathy laugh that was just shy of hysterical. “He said that his village oracle had sent him here to get the heart of the Black Lion of Altea, and he was convinced that that sculpture was the Black Lion and the gem was its heart.”

He could still remember the gleaming black armor he wore into battle, with its billowing cape and fur-lined hood ringing his neck. Built for an adult, it had almost been too large for him. He’d been barely more than a child then, but the Alteans he fought with had called him their Black Lion, in honor of the legend of the Lions of Oriande, in honor of the lion sculptures in this temple, and Shiro had said _nothing_ to Keith, then had let Keith interrupt and distract him, and –

“Oh, Shiro.”

He took a shaky breath. “And he... he had my heart, right in his hands, and neither of us really knew it.”

She crouched on the floor next to him and pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry, Shiro.”

“I should have told him.” His voice cracked and he bumped his forehead against Allura’s shoulder. “And now he’s gone, and I don’t know where.”

 

******

Three days.

Three whole days had passed, full of sudden visions and nightmares and sounds Keith _knew_ weren’t there but that he reacted to nonetheless, and he was ready to smash this gem into pieces and throw the pieces off a cliff. There were bags under his eyes that he could feel every time he blinked, and that couldn’t have been normal in any way, and he hadn’t picked up any food for the return trip, so his stomach was a mess of cramps.

And none of that was as bad as the ache in his chest. Why did he leave like that? Why didn’t he ask Shiro to come with him? Why didn’t he leave a note behind? Why didn’t he promise to return?

Right. Because he couldn’t.

Keith stood outside the village gates and shivered. It was midday with full sun, not that much of it made it through the dense tree canopy. His shoulders drew up near his ears at the brisk mountain wind. He had only been gone, what, three weeks? Four? He had already grown so used to the warmth of Altea that the Marmora village felt too cold.

“Keith! Keith, is that you?”

His head snapped up. There was Regris, almost dangling over the edge of the guard tower, waving so hard his arm looked like it would fly off.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Keith shouted back.

The heavy wooden doors began to creak open, and Regris disappeared from view, appearing a moment later to dart through the gap between the doors and tackle Keith in a hug.

“I thought you were _dead_ ,” he whimpered. His tail lashed behind him like an angry whip. “Don’t you ever vanish like that again.”

Keith’s arms hung limp at his sides. Regris had always taken after everyone else in the village, staying stoic in even the most stressful situations. He must have been truly scared.

“I’m sorry, Regris,” he murmured. And he was sorry, at least about leaving without telling him and making him worry.

Regris squeezed him once more. “Let’s get you inside, okay? Tell Krolia and Kolivan and everyone else that you’re okay. Maybe finally have your coming-of-age party.”

Anger suddenly bubbled up in Keith’s chest. What did it matter if he was finally of age in this village if everything it was built on was a lie?

“Yeah,” he growled. “Let’s go see Kolivan. Where is he?”

“Uh, main hall, I think.”

“Let’s go, then.” He pushed past his bewildered friend, stomping through the village streets to the most central building in town with a scowl on his face.

A few other people – Galra, he added in his head – shouted his name in surprise, but he ignored them. He ignored everything except his destination and Regris trailing behind him.

He swung the main hall doors open with enough force to make an echoing crack against the wall.

Kolivan and Antok looked up from the table they stood over. Thace’s eyes grew wide, and Ulaz jumped to his feet. Krolia yelped and took two steps towards Keith, halting only at his glare.

“Keith, you have returned,” Kolivan said.

But Keith was having none of that.

“Do you want to explain to me,” he began, sliding his bag off his shoulder, “why there is a giant statue of _you_ at the center of Altea?”

He threw the bag, with the heavy gem inside it, directly at Kolivan’s stomach. It got a satisfying grunt out of him as it hit its mark.

“Do you want to explain to me why the people there think the Blade of Marmora – and that’s what you are, right? You and Ulaz and whoever else – why they think the Blade of Marmora all died in the _war_ they fought? With the Galra? Which you also are?” His voice rose to near hysterics. “Do you want to explain to me why everyone there _looks like me_ and no one in this damn village does? Why the war ended when I was a baby and no one told me about it?”

Kolivan’s face was a closed book, locked shut and showing nothing. “You were not supposed to speak with anyone there.”

“Too late for that now, huh? What were you trying to hide?”

“The past is the past. We move forward.”

Keith snarled. “I can’t just move forward after everything! What am I, some kind of – of war orphan you snatched from the Humans?”

“You do not understand,” Kolivan said. “It is better this way. This is for the survival of the Marmora!”

Krolia stepped forward and bared her teeth, hissing, “No, Kolivan. We are not at war, now. We do not need to hide, and I will not live this lie any longer.” She turned to Keith, eyes glimmering with tears. “Come with me, Keith. I will tell you everything.”

He didn’t want to trust her. She had been part of this; everyone had been part of this, except maybe Regris, who looked like the rug had been pulled out from under him. But even in his most difficult moments with her, she had always cared, and right now he needed that.

He nodded, and let her wrap an arm around him and pull him away.

She didn’t say anything on the way to their house, just sighing and shaking her head every few moments. The door swung open quietly; Krolia lit the lamps and sank into a cushion.

This was his home, wasn’t it? Its polished wood and stone walls were familiar and comfortable. But Keith now felt like he was a guest, intruding on Krolia’s space.

“Kolivan means well, but meaning well and doing the right thing aren’t always the same.” She patted the cushion next to her. Keith sat on it, slowly relaxing against her shoulder. She was so warm. “Your father was Human, part of their... whatever it’s called, something between military and civilian. The Galra druids were vicious fighters who would burn entire villages to the ground, and he... he was caught in one of them.”

“And my mother?”

Krolia’s hand froze where it had been stroking his hair. She sighed, sadness and disappointment flooding the air.

Keith knew the answer immediately. “It’s you, isn’t it. Why did you let me think you were just my caretaker?”

“I had to go back to the fight as soon as you were weaned. When the war was over and I came home, you didn’t recognize me. Humans have smaller, more tightly-knit family units than Galra, but you are half-Galra and should have been able to adapt. By the time anyone figured out that it bothered you, it was too late. I tried, Keith.” She paused for a moment and swallowed hard. Her voice was thick and choked when she continued. “I really tried to be your mom. But you refused to believe it, and it caused you so much distress that we thought it better to...”

He huffed. It made sense, and he couldn’t remember anyone ever _telling_ him that he was an orphan, unlike Regris, whose caretakers, Thace and Ulaz, told him in very clear words that he was their family by choice rather than by biology.

Thace and Ulaz, who had fought in the war.

“Shiro said that Ulaz freed him from the Galra,” Keith blurted out.

Krolia leaned forward, studying Keith’s face. “Who’s Shiro?”

“He’s... he’s one of the guards at the temple. He let me stay with him when I was there. And I just... I betrayed his trust.” His voice cracked. “I stole the gem and I just left, without even saying anything.”

Her eyebrows drew together, creasing in the same way Keith knew his did, and he wondered how he ever could have missed it. His mom. She was right in front of him all along.

“Ulaz was undercover with the druids,” she finally said. “He had enough skill as a doctor to fool them. He freed at least a dozen of their slave gladiators before he was compromised and had to escape.”

Slave gladiators. Shiro had been a slave, forced to fight.

“Is there really a statue of Kolivan in the middle of the city?”

Keith barked out a laugh. “There is. It’s on a platform with a statue of Allura and her father.” He wrung his hands. “The... the gem gave me visions.”

Krolia went still at that. “What kind of visions?”

“I don’t know. Mostly sounds, actually. I heard you screaming. I thought I heard the village under attack, but...”

The frown that warped Krolia’s face was like none Keith had ever seen. “It must be a scrying gem. The druids used them to do... all manner of terrible things.”

“Oh. No wonder it gave me nightmares.”

“No, Keith, it shouldn’t have. It’s... for anyone else, it’s just a piece of crystal. It doesn’t do anything.”

Keith’s blood ran cold, colder than he’d felt since he walked through the gates. “Then... I’m...”

She nodded. Even her embrace couldn’t warm him. “You have the druidic gift in you.”

******

Two days later, Keith was ready to scream.

Kolivan, though improving, according to Krolia, was also still being a stubborn asshole, also according to Krolia.

Or maybe Keith was just frustrated and feeling petty because he didn’t want to be here. So he went in search of Regris.

He found him hunched over at the edge of the training yard, knees tucked up under his arms, tail twitching in the straw behind him. Keith sat next to him and shook his head.

“Thace and Ulaz told me everything,” Regris mumbled. “How could they have kept something like that from us? What’s the point of this knowledge-or-death shit if they don’t let us _know_ things?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, folding his legs together. “Krolia is my actual mom.”

Regris gave him a look of disbelief. “What the fuck.”

“Yeah,” Keith said again.

They sat in silence, watching the sunset over the cliffs, just as red-gold as the day Keith had left Altea and... Shiro.

He didn’t realize he was sniffling until Regris elbowed him.

“What’s got you so mopey over there?”

Keith elbowed Regris back. “Everything. Fuck off.”

“Yeah, yeah, moody bastard.” His tail thwacked the ground. “What’s Altea like?”

Keith swallowed hard to fight off a new wave of... sniffles. “Hot and dry and sunny. They don’t have any trees.”

“Sounds miserable. We should go there some time.”

Keith scoffed at that. “Yeah, no, not after I stole a gem out from the middle of their temple. Let’s just walk right in like it’s nothing. Oh, and apparently it’s a druid’s _scrying_ _gem_ and I’m a fucking druid.”

Regris was silent for another moment. “What the _fuck_.”

“I know, right?” He sighed. “And... I still want to go back there.”

They didn’t speak for almost an hour; they just sat and watched the sun dip below the horizon, watched the last of the light fade from the hills, watched the few purple streetlamps light up in the dark.

“Why do you want to go back?” Regris was so quiet he almost whispered it, but Keith heard it clearly.

“It’s... stupid.”

Regris chuckled. “Yeah, and? What else is new?”

Keith laughed, too. “I met someone, there.”

“Tell me about them.”

So Keith did.

He told Regris how Shiro had knocked him flat on his ass in the middle of the temple his very first night there, but also had been so kind and had opened his home to him – and that he had blankets like Kolivan’s.

Regris sighed in longing for blankets like that of his own, while Keith picked at the straw and blinked away tears.

“He knew I was from out of town, and he asked me to stay.”

“Then go back.”

The confidence in Regris’ voice knocked Keith sideways. “What?”

“Go back to him! There’s nobody like him for you here, except maybe me, and I’m sure not pairing up with you.”

Keith wrinkled his nose. “Ew, Regris, that’s gross. Why would you even suggest that.”

“Exactly!” Regris crowed. “So go back! Get some action!”

“Get some – Regris, I can’t go back! Not without the gem.”

Regris rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Then take the gem with you.”

“But...”

“It’s a druid gem, right? Like, it needs a druid to use it.”

Keith nodded.

“So, if you’re our only druid, and you’re not here, it’s not like Kolivan can do anything with it, right?” Could it really be that easy? Regris grinned. “You said Shiro knew why you were there, right? So just explain everything else to him, and say you’re sorry, and give them back the gem. Easy.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. Regris shrugged.

“Okay, well, probably not that easy, but the general idea is the same.”

“I guess so.” Keith picked straw out of his scarf. How did it even get there? “It’s worth a shot.”

“But you have to promise to visit, okay?” Regris looped an arm around Keith’s shoulders and held him tight. “And maybe I’ll visit you, too.”

“If I’m not executed on sight, you mean.”

Regris suddenly grew serious. “Whenever I did something wrong as a kid, and I expected Thace or Ulaz to be upset, they always told me that there’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a sincere and focused effort. Same goes for you, okay?”

Keith grumbled. “I’m pretty sure death can’t be fixed.”

“I don’t know. You’re a druid. You might have ways around that,” Regris said, ducking away from Keith’s slap. “Hey! I mean it though. You want to fix things with Shiro, you have to try.”

“I guess.”

Keith flopped onto his back and stared up at the sky. The stars twinkled in the same pattern that hovered over Altea. Would he be able to share this with Shiro some day?

Could it really be that simple? Could he just... undo what he had done?

He rose to his feet. “I’m going back.”

“Oh.” Regris stared at him in shock, as if he didn’t think Keith would actually decide to do it. “Good. Remember to visit.”

“I will.” Keith brushed a few bits of straw off his pants. “Give Kolivan my regards.”

Regris laughed. “Yeah, I will.”

“And I’ll try not to get executed,” Keith called out over his shoulder as he left.

“Don’t be a dumbass. At least get into your guy’s bed first!” Regris shouted back.

Keith huffed a small laugh to himself as he prowled through the streets of the village, towards the main hall. It was late enough that Kolivan wouldn’t be there anymore, but the building was never locked. Keith slipped in slowly, quietly, sighing in relief when the door hinges didn’t squeak.

The only problem was that he didn’t know where Kolivan had put the gem.

But... he was a druid, right? Whatever that meant; he should be able to find it.

He closed his eyes and waited for the sensation of nightmares to wash over him, but it didn’t come. Instead, he got a taste of longing, a mix of hope and hopelessness, and the faint sound of a sigh.

It only took a minute of rummaging through a closet – a damn closet! – for him to find his bag with the gem still inside. After all of this, they hadn’t even done anything with it. They had just put it away and left it there.

He slung the bag over his shoulder and stalked out, detouring only to his house to grab some food.

Krolia met him at the door, a tight twist to her lips.

He squared his shoulders. “I have to make this right.”

“I know, Keith.” She pulled him into a hug and petted his hair. “Be safe.”

“I will.”

She helped him stuff his bag with fruits and dried meat and wrap the gem more securely, hopefully muffling its effect on Keith. He hugged her goodbye, then darted between houses to the front gates. He was skinny enough compared to the rest of the Marmora here that he could slip between the doors with only the slightest shift.

He was halfway down the mountain by the time a lookout noticed him and began to shout.

******

Shiro’s quarters had never been this empty before.

Logically, he knew nothing was out of the ordinary; he’d lived years in them without feeling lonely like this. Or, rather, without feeling his loneliness so acutely.

So what if he burrowed his nose into the blankets every night, hoping for a lingering whiff of anything that smelled like Keith? So what if he scoured the second bedroom for anything Keith might have left behind, that he could keep as a memento?

Shiro had found that coin, the one he had tossed out his window, the one Keith had tried to use to buy the blanket, at the foot of the bed. Soon after, it held a place of honor on his side table. It greeted him this morning, glimmering in the early dawn light filtering through the curtains, and he rolled over and sighed.

He had barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined Keith laying next to him, dark eyelashes framing his gorgeous blue eyes, smiling like he was in love.

Every time, he jolted awake with a lump in his throat and a burn in his eyes.

Today, though, was his day off, and he was determined to stay in bed until he actually fell asleep. But his bed felt too large, so he relocated to the armchair that smelled the most like Keith.

And of course, like with all plans to relax and avoid all contact with others, it didn’t last more than a minute past when it was thought up.

“Shiro?” Allura’s muffled voice was followed by light knocks on his door, barely more than taps of her knuckles. “May I come in?”

Shiro groaned, stretched, and straightened his sleep pants. “Yeah,” he said, cracking a yawn, “I’m up.”

Allura slipped inside, closing the door behind her with the softest click of the latch. She caught sight of Shiro and her entire face fell.

He knew he looked like a mess: dark circles under his eyes, wrinkled clothing that he didn’t care to wash, a few days’ worth of stubble on his chin. He cracked another yawn and stretched, rubbing one hand over his left eye. It was dry and itchy with his lack of sleep.

“Oh, Shiro,” Allura sighed. She sat in the next armchair and pushed Keith’s blanket aside, frowning at how Shiro flinched and reached for it, shaking her head at how he clutched it to his chest.

He gave her a blank stare. “What?”

“I didn’t realize this was affecting you so much.”

“It’s not affecting–” he blurted out, starting in on the defensive replies he had repeated so many times over the past four days. But his fingers curled tighter into Keith’s blanket, and he crumbled. “I miss him so much, Allura.”

Allura turned her head away. “I know you do. You’re not sleeping, you’re distracted all the time, and you snap at everyone.” She looked back and fixed him with a scowl. “You knew Keith for, what, three weeks?”

Shiro hunched down, burying his face in the blanket and inhaling. He could barely smell Keith anymore; just the lingering scent of smoke from the cooking stalls at the Festival. It still comforted him.

“I know it seems unbelievable, Allura,” he said.

“No, it seems unhealthy.”

“I _know,_ Allura. I know how this all looks. It’s just... I’ve been so lonely for so long.” He sank into the chair facing hers. “I don’t even think I realized it, until Keith came along, and suddenly everything felt right.”

She huffed. “It’s not healthy, Shiro.”

He shook his head at her. “No, Allura, it’s something more than just... infatuation. I felt like – feel like, still – Keith and I were always meant to meet and always meant to be together. In any lifetime.”

“You sound like Slav, now.”

Shiro’s lips curled into a snarl. “Hah. Funny.”

“No, Shiro,” Allura whispered, rising to her feet. “It’s not funny at all. You’re not yourself anymore.”

“I know I’m not, Allura. I don’t think I ever have been.” He tried to smile at her, as tears pooled in his eyes. “I only ever felt like myself when I was with Keith.”

“I see.” She laced her fingers together. “I _am_ sorry if I made you feel like you had to... put on an act around me.”

Shiro waved off her concern. “It wasn’t anything specific. It’s just something I have to work on. By myself.”

Her breath left her in a steady rush, too controlled to be a sigh. “Get some rest, Shiro,” she said, shaking her head and walking out without another word.

Well. He’d been trying to. Might as well give it another attempt.

He grabbed Keith’s blanket and brought it to his bed.

******

Keith still half expected to be snatched and brought up for execution the moment he walked through the gates of Altea, like the guards could smell his guilt and would be ready with a net and a sword. Would Shiro be there? Would he be upset? Or would he be the one to do it, filled with the righteous fury of betrayal?

His dreams, on the route back to Altea, had been filled with Shiro instead of his village. He’d seen wispy images of Shiro with both his original arms. He’d heard screams of anguish, as well as sighs of pain. He was pretty sure he’d accidentally listened in on a conversation between Shiro and Allura, where Allura was comforting him over Keith’s disappearance.

The gem was a blessing and a curse.

Allura hadn’t sounded pleased, and Keith wouldn’t be surprised if she had put out a bounty on him. But he walked right through the city gates, and the guards paid him no mind.

Maybe Regris had been right about him being overly dramatic.

The heat of the sun and stillness of the air wrapped around him like Shiro’s blanket, keeping him warm and comfortable as he took one uncomfortable step after another towards the center of the city.

No one took a second look at him.

Keith entered the palace through the main doors, this time. Somehow, in the weeks he’d spent here before, he’d always gone through the second entrance or the side door.

Or a window, that first night.

A slim guard stood, hands on his hips, right in the middle of the hall. Was Keith supposed to check in with him?

Keith looked left and right, then cleared his throat. “Uh... is there any way I could speak with Allura?”

The guard scoffed. Scoffed! Keith’s fingers itched to form fists, but he held them still. He had to keep calm until he could give the gem back to Allura and apologize to Shiro. He couldn’t let anyone wind him up.

“Uh huh, uh huh. And why do _you_ want an audience with her?”

“Lance, stop being an asshole,” a long-suffering voice sighed from behind Keith. A second guard had appeared, taller and bulkier than his companion.

“Oh come on, Hunk! He looks shifty!”

Keith took a step to the side, then back, trying to keep both of them in sight. “I have something to give her.” He shifted the bag slung over his shoulder just to feel the weight of the gem, then amended, “Something to return to her.”

Lance and Hunk approached. “We’ll need a look at it,” Hunk said.

That made sense. Keith let the bag slide down his arm, then opened it for them to see. Lance’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Hunk glanced up at Keith with wide eyes. Then Lance groaned and Hunk sighed again.

“You?? You’re the mysterious _Keith_ that Shiro wouldn’t shut up about?” Lance shouted. His voice echoed off the walls and ceiling, and Keith winced at the sound.

Hunk crossed his arms. “Lance, what are you talking about?”

“He has the crystal from the lion statue!” Lance jabbed his hand in Keith’s direction, almost striking him in the arm.

“I saw it just as well as you.” Keith braced himself as Hunk cast an appraising look over him. Then Hunk turned back to Lance and shook his head. “But I’m still not making the connection to Keith and Shiro here. Allura never said what happened to the crystal.”

Lance opened his mouth to argue, then snapped it shut.

Hunk shook his head. “Have you been eavesdropping on Allura’s conversations again?”

“No,” Lance spat, in such a petulant tone that it was clear he was lying.

“You go get Shiro, and tell him what you’ve been up to. I’ll take our guest to Allura,” Hunk said, in an oddly placating tone.

Lance squawked, and Hunk repeated himself more sternly. “Fine,” he snapped, stomping off.

Keith looked up and Hunk, then down at the floor. “They never said anything?”

“Not a word.” Hunk’s face was warm and welcoming, and Keith already wanted to be his friend.

But he just nodded, settled his bag over his shoulder again, and huffed. “Okay, might as well get this over with.”

“I will say,” Hunk started, then cleared his throat, “that Shiro has been pretty down for the past week, since that gem disappeared. Not saying you have anything to do with that! But, you, uh, might have something to do with that?”

Keith bit his lip. “I’m here to make it right.”

The palace didn’t have a throne room, in the strictest of terms – not that Keith would have recognized one beyond what childhood bedtime stories had led him to imagine. Instead, Allura stood behind a broad table in the middle of a cluster of chairs, flipping over a piece of paper.

“Allura?”

She glanced forward at Hunk’s call, then glared when she saw Keith. He was quick to step forward and drop to his knees, pulling the gem from his bag and wincing away the visions.

“I’m here to return this to you,” he bit out, as a ghost of Kolivan as a younger man swam before his eyes. He blinked, and it was replaced with Shiro and Lance, walking in place.

“Why did you take it?” Allura asked. “And how were you able to get it out?”

Keith took a deep breath and recited the speech he’d been practicing his entire way here.

“I grew up in an isolated village in the mountains, three days east of here. The village has no real name, but we call it Marmora, after the people who live there.”

Allura took a sharp breath. Keith’s hands shook as the gem warmed, and he could sense everyone around him; Allura before him, Hunk behind him, Lance and Shiro across the room to his left. Another unknown person stood a similar distance to the right.

“They are Galra, but I didn’t know that word until... until a week ago. I am Galra, too, on my mother’s side, but my father was Human. I... I’m a druid, apparently.”

No one spoke. Keith cleared his throat and swallowed. The shadows in the floor reached up at him and he shook his head. He couldn’t remember the rest of his speech. Why wouldn’t anyone say something?

“I, uh, was sent here a few days after my twentieth birthday, in order to get this gem. The Heart of the Black Lion of Altea, according to the Oracle. And, uh, Kolivan said it was vital to our village’s survival.”

Lance squeaked and Allura gasped.

“Kolivan is alive?” she asked.

“He is!” Keith yelped, as something screeched in his ears. “He is. And – so is Ulaz. He helped raise me and my best friend.”

“Ulaz?” It was the first Shiro had spoken, and Keith longed to look at him, to see his face, but he kept his eyes tightly shut.

“That’s why I took the Heart of the Black Lion,” he breathed, rushing through the rest of his words, “and that’s why I left, but I brought it back and I’m sorry I ever stole it, and please just take it back and make this stop.” He punctuated that with a short twitch of his arms, trying to push the gem away from himself.

“Keith,” Shiro whispered. He placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder, and suddenly the hallucinations ceased, and Keith could breathe again. “Keith, those lion sculptures represent the Lions of Oriande. They have no title, and that gem has no name. The Black Lion of Altea is _me_.”

“...What?” Keith twisted around to face Shiro, and in the brief moment where Shiro’s hand slipped from his shoulder, he could see black armor and a thick black cloak superimposed on the man before him. “You?”

Shiro smiled, even as a tear tracked down his cheek. “And you already had my heart.”

Keith bit his lip. “Had?”

Shiro let out a soft laugh, barely more than a puff of air. “Have,” he amended.

The half-laugh, half-sob tore itself from Keith’s throat, and he toppled over into Shiro’s chest. “I’m so sorry, Shiro.”

But Shiro wouldn’t let him stay there, instead pulling him up and taking the gem from him. He placed it in a box that had appeared on the table, then strode back to Keith. His hands ran up and down Keith’s arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His nose bumped against Keith’s forehead.

“It’s good to have you back,” he whispered.

“It’s good to be back,” Keith replied.

They hugged, and it felt like coming home.

“Allura!” Another guard came skating into the room; only, she wasn’t a guard, and instead looked like a blacksmith or a carpenter, with dust-stained hands and heavy protective goggles. “Allura, there’s someone here to see you.”

Allura frowned. “Okay? Send them in, Pidge.”

Kolivan, dressed in a formal robe Keith had never seen on him – but which did match the statue – walked through the door, his head held high, followed by Antok and Krolia, then Ulaz and Thace.

Keith stiffened. Had they followed him here?

Shiro turned and gasped. “Ulaz?”

Ulaz bowed. “Champion.”

_That_ got a full-body shudder from Shiro. “I go by Shiro, here.”

“Good to see you doing well, Shiro,” Ulaz replied, turning back towards Kolivan as though he hadn’t just had this conversation.

“That’s just how he is,” Keith whispered.

Then the Oracle popped out from behind Thace. “Ah! Keith! Shiro!”

Keith glanced between Shiro and the Oracle. “Uh, how do you know the Oracle, Shiro?”

“The – what?” Shiro paled. “You’re telling me your village oracle is Slav??”

The Oracle climbed up to Shiro’s shoulders. “Not in the strictest of terms, no. I’m not tied exclusively to the Blade of Marmora’s village. That would be devastating in eighty percent of all realities!” His tail curled around Shiro’s neck like a scarf. Shiro shuddered. “However, I am pleased that you two have saved _this_ reality!”

Keith stared. Shiro shoved the Oracle off his shoulders.

The Oracle shot Shiro and Keith an absolutely venomous glare. “Fine! I see I am not appreciated here. Even if I singlehandedly ended your people’s isolation.” Then he darted away so stiffly that Keith could imaging him stomping his feet if he didn’t have such tiny paws.

Keith wrapped Shiro in a hug. “Is... is he always like that?”

Shiro sagged in Keith’s arms. “Yeah, he really is. I don’t really want to stick around for the rest of this reunion, either.”

Keith hugged him tighter. “Should we work on our own instead?” He froze as he realized the words he had spoken, probably turning white as all the blood drained from his face.

The blush that spread over Shiro’s cheeks was gorgeous. “Uh, wow, okay, I... didn’t expect you to be that smooth about all this.”

“Neither did I,” Keith muttered. He cast a glance over his shoulders, to where Allura and Kolivan were shaking hands. It was a touching scene, but one he had no interest in while Shiro was right next to him. “Let’s get out of here.”

Keith’s heart raced as they ran to Shiro’s quarters, flinging the door open with a laugh. Shiro’s bed was soft yet sturdy, a perfect platform upon which Shiro could pounce on him with a growl.

“What was that?” Keith asked, trying not to laugh.

“Your Black Lion of Altea,” Shiro said. He growled again.

Keith snorted and shoved Shiro back. “What the fuck, Shiro.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shiro drawled, loosening the straps of his armor and pulling it over his head. He curled over Keith and kissed him on the mouth. “No fun at all.”

“I didn’t say that,” Keith whispered.

They slowly mapped out each other’s lips, learning every sigh and gasp and moan. They studied each other’s hands and shoulders as they pushed against the mattress, and drank each other in like they were parched.

Keith’s skin tingled everywhere Shiro touched. He had never felt so alive.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Shiro murmured into Keith’s hair, kissing his neck and settling in behind him.

Keith wriggled his back against Shiro’s chest, relaxing with a sigh. “It’s good to be home.”

******

A year later

******

The music of the Peace Festival floated through the air, pulling paper streamers along with it. Keith took Shiro’s hands and pulled him into the crowd of dancers, twirling in circles and spinning him with a laugh and a smile. They bought matching necklaces and matching scarves, and sat down next to the statues with a plate full of meat kebabs to share.

Across the plaza, Kolivan and Antok stood, looking grumpier than ever, as a small group of Humans gushed at them about something; they were too far away for Keith to hear them over the music. The Oracle – apparently called Slav here – darted through the crowd and climbed Kolivan’s shoulders.

Keith shook his head, resting it against Shiro’s shoulder, and smiling when Shiro pulled him in closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Liking the Festival?” Shiro asked.

Keith hummed and nodded, burrowing deeper into Shiro’s side. “Yeah. But I like being here with you even more.”

“The Olkari fire-dancers are performing tomorrow, too.”

“I don’t care about that,” Keith murmured. “I just care about you.”

Shiro sputtered. “That’s – but I’ve been to a dozen of these festivals. I’ve seen everything already. I want to make sure _you_ get to enjoy it now.” He bumped his nose on Keith’s cheek, then nuzzled his ear. “But if you insist, follow me.”

He guided Keith to his feet with such a soft smile and soft touch that Keith felt his cheeks flame red. Shiro was so gentle in so many things. They walked to their rooms hand-in-hand, exchanging kisses and laughs along the way.

“Grab that bag there,” Shiro said, pointing at the bag Keith had brought with him from the Marmora village. It was stuffed full of something. Keith raised an eyebrow at Shiro.

“What have you been planning?”

Shiro blushed, then forced his face into such a look of innocence that Keith couldn’t help but suspect him of some kind of... scheming.

“Let’s go!” he said, artificially chipper, as he gathered a thick blanket into his arms.

Keith rolled his eyes and followed. “You’re acting suspicious.”

“No I’m not!” Shiro said. He blushed beautifully.

To Keith’s surprise, Shiro led him outside the city, up a small hill, and to a flat spot that had already been set up with a heavy woven rug and candles. Shiro dropped his blanket on the rug, then grabbed the bag from Keith and pulled their matching striped blankets from it. He kissed Keith hard enough to steal his breath and most rational thought for a moment, leaving him half-dazed, standing in the sand.

“Keith,” Shiro began, grave and serious, as he prepared... whatever he was preparing, “a year ago tonight you literally stole my heart –”

Keith paled. Was there some kind of word for secondhand mortification? “Really, Shiro?”

“– and carried it to the ends of the earth and back –”

“Seriously?”

“– and in doing so, taught me to love without fear.”

Keith blushed. Shiro could be so sentimental sometimes.

“Mostly because I got it all out of my system during that week.”

And other times, he was an ass.

“You’re the worst,” Keith groaned.

“Happy anniversary, Keith,” Shiro purred, kissing Keith again and pulling him down to the comfortable blanket nest on the ground.

“Technically that’s in eight days,” Keith said.

Shiro sighed and slumped against Keith’s shoulder. “Don’t ruin the mood.”

They both held their breath for a moment, then burst into laughter.

“How long have you been planning this?” Keith asked, when he could breathe again.

Shiro blushed, tucking Keith against his side and pulling a blanket over both of them. “Ever since you said you liked stargazing.”

That was four months ago. Keith smiled and snuggled close, staring up at the deep, glittering sky. Shiro kissed his forehead, then rolled on top of him, dragging his lips up Keith’s neck.

“I love you.”

Keith sighed and kissed just above Shiro’s ear. “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at https://amairawrites.tumblr.com, where I'm known to ramble about writing in general, occasional random shit, and the thought processes that go into what I write.


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